


Happiness Is a Water Gun

by mayhap



Category: Adventures in Odyssey
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Face-Fucking, Humiliation, M/M, Revenge Sex, Yuleporn, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-18 06:50:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16990092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mayhap/pseuds/mayhap
Summary: With Dr. Regis Blackgaard forced to his knees at gunpoint, Richard Maxwell takes his revenge. AU of Waylaid in the Windy City.





	Happiness Is a Water Gun

**Author's Note:**

  * For [radioqueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/radioqueen/gifts).



> As soon as I saw your requests for this fandom, I knew that I had to write something for you. I hope you have a very happy Yuletide!

“Well, well, well,” said Dr. Regis Blackgaard. He sounded exceedingly pleased with himself. “John Avery Whittaker.”

Richard Maxwell was listening from his hiding place behind boxes of PCI busses in an electronics warehouse in a rough neighborhood in Chicago. Dr. Blackgaard still had no idea that Richard had been following him and that he and Mr. Whittaker were now working together to thwart his scheme to get his hands on the Department of Defense laptop filled with valuable government secrets. Richard felt the adrenaline surge through his body.

“And you brought the computer?” Blackgaard pressed.

“Well, isn’t that what you wanted?”

Whittaker sounded completely calm, even though Blackgaard still had Connie Kendall, his hostage, firmly in his grasp. Richard already knew that Whittaker was a good man to have around when you found yourself in a dangerous situation. He had saved Richard’s life when Blackgaard had left him trapped beneath a Zap-A-Zoid machine in a burning building. That experience had changed him.

Of course, the two years that he’d served in the Campbell County Detention Center for arson afterwards had changed him, too.

“Still want, Whittaker,” Blackgaard said, as pedantic as ever. “Shall we call it an even trade? Perhaps we can finish the deal I had intended from the beginning. Before you disappeared.”

“Things have changed since then,” Whittaker said. “We have another partner in this little arrangement.”

“Oh? And who might that be?”

Richard recognized a cue when he heard it. He stepped out into the open at last.

“Me, your Excellency,” he announced with an ironic flourish.

The initial reaction to this revelation wasn’t quite as satisfying as he had hoped.

“Oh, my, my, my, my,” Blackgaard temporized with a smile. “This _is_ turning into old home week! Dear, _dear_ Richard. Did you escape from the detention center? Or do they have you attached on a long leash?”

“I’m out on ‘good behavior,’” Richard said wryly. “Go figure.”

“Whit?” Connie squeaked. “What’s going on?”

“You may as well give up, Blackgaard,” Whittaker said.

“Give up?” Blackgaard laughed. “Oh, please! Because the two of you have me surrounded? What are you going to do? Frighten me with rude expressions?” He made a moue of mockery.

“Funny!” Richard said. “You’re a very funny man. But I can do better than that.” He reached behind his back and pulled something from his waistband, aiming it squarely at Blackgaard, whose eyes widened. “With this gun.”

“Richard!”

“Whit!” Connie whimpered. “His gun!”

“Richard, this was never part of our plan!”

Richard felt a twinge when he heard the disappointment in Whittaker’s voice, but he pushed it aside. He needed to be alone with his former boss.

“It wasn’t part of _your_ plan,” he began, but then he tried to check the bitter sarcasm and started again. “Look, you get Connie to safety, all right? Let me make sure Blackgaard doesn’t hurt her. He won’t try anything while I’ve got a gun on him.”

Richard had used Whittaker’s concern for Connie against him once before, when he’d induced him to skip an important town council meeting about Blackgaard’s permit application that he’d promised to attend by arranging for him to receive a forged note from Connie asking him to meet her at a certain bridge at the exact time of the meeting. He knew how much Whittaker cared about her.

Kind of the opposite of how Blackgaard felt about his vulnerable, disposable minions.

“Richard—” said Whittaker.

“I wouldn’t want to get in anyone’s way,” Connie interjected, letting her voice trail off a bit helplessly.

That seemed to make up Whittaker’s mind for him.

“Let’s go!” he hissed at Connie. Wielding the briefcase handcuffed to his wrist like a shield, he wrapped an arm around the girl to escort her safely to the door while Blackgaard remained where he was. He spared only a single reproachful backwards glance for Richard. It cut like a knife.

“Not you, doctor,” Richard said, waggling the gun as Blackgaard grew restive. “You and I have a score to settle. I’ve spent the last two years thinking about revenge.”

“It took you two years to come up with this idea?” Blackgaard said incredulously.

Richard was familiar with this contempt from Blackgaard and he was ready to put an end to it. “Go ahead, doctor, be glib. But the gun’s still pointed at you.”

“Love to stay and chat, but you know the electronics business: rush, rush, rush!” Blackgaard said breezily. “That’s why I’ve had these little escape hatches installed. Just push a button, and—ow!”

Blackgaard’s smug satisfaction turned to dismay as he received a painful electric shock as soon as his finger made contact with the button. Richard laughed.

“Feeble, doctor, very feeble! I didn’t work for you for all those months without learning a few things, like how to sabotage your remote control gizmos.”

It hadn’t been strictly necessary to rig them to administer a severe shock, of course. _That_ had been a pleasure.

Blackgaard wrung his hand, trying to get the sting out of it. He was also trying to keep the desperation off of his face. He licked his lips, then licked them again.

“L-l-let’s be _reasonable_ , Richard,” he said, suddenly conciliatory now that he realized that he had no means of escape. “What do you want? Surely there’s _something_ we can negotiate.”

“Make me an offer,” Richard spat, “just so I can hear it!” He was already flying high on this sudden taste of power over Dr. Regis Blackgaard.

“I have money. Property! You could live anywhere in the world. T-tell me what you want! Name it!”

“You.” Richard named it. “On your knees.”

“What.” Blackgaard was aghast.

“Get on your knees!” Richard shouted.

He advanced on Blackgaard, shoving the gun in his face, and the man cringed gratifyingly. He fell to his knees awkwardly, as if the very motion was foreign to him. The hard, cold cement floor of the warehouse didn't look particularly welcoming to his old knees, either.

“All right, I’m on my knees, now what do you want?”

“I want you to suck my dick.”

“What.”

“You heard me,” Richard snapped. He gestured to his crotch with the hand that wasn't holding the gun. “Go on. Suck it.”

“B-but,” Blackgaard protested, “surely you don’t—don’t… _want_ …er… _that_.” His mouth twisted in disgust.

“Oh, but I do,” Richard said with glee. “I've been thinking this for a long time, remember?”

“At the detention center,” Blackgaard said, with sudden realization. “Oh, Richard, I never considered what that place would be like for someone of your…appearance.”

_Pretty little bitch, ain't ya?_

“Shut up!” yelled Richard.

“Of course, Richard, I would hate to dwell on such a _sore_ subject for—”

He slapped Blackgaard hard, connecting with his face solidly, even though he was using his left handwith the gun still in his right. The sound echoed through the warehouse and a red splotch bloomed on Blackgaard’s pale cheek. That shut him up for the moment.

Richard had never been particularly good at keeping his own mouth shut. He’d realized that it made him an appealing victim for men like Jellyfish, who’d tormented him constantly in the detention center, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. If he was going to get hurt, at least it would be on his own terms.

It had still hurt. A lot.

“There,” he said, “that’s better. Now go on. Suck my dick. Do a good job, and maybe I won’t shoot you afterwards.”

“But,” Blackgaard babbled, “b-but I don’t even know _how_ , I—”

“It’s not that difficult, _doc_ ,” Richard said. “You’re a clever man. You’ll figure it out.”

“I’m—I’m _begging_ you, Richard.” Blackgaard practically choked on the word, but he got it out. “Don’t make me do this, please. I’ll do anything, anything you want, but please. Not this.”

It felt so good just to hear the man beg. Blackgaard had used him, used him to do his dirty work, used him to hurt someone that he cared about. Someone who was innocent and kind and considerate. Lucy had trusted him with her whole heart, and he had exploited her to try to gain access to Whittaker’s top-secret computer program Applesauce, which had almost killed her when Blackgaard triggered a power surge in the Imagination Station while she was in it. Then Blackgaard had skipped town, leaving Richard to take the rap for burning down Tom Riley’s barn and Blackgaard’s Castle.

Blackgaard wasn’t going anywhere now. Not until Richard was done with him.

“There’s nothing else that I want from you,” Richard growled. “I don’t want your money, or your property. None of that means anything to me. This is the only revenge I’m interested in.”

Richard reached for his fly. He undid the button one-handed and tugged down the zipper. His dick was already half-hard from just talking about it, and as he freed it from his briefs, he felt it stiffen further at his touch.

Blackgaard’s eyes twitched back and forth from Richard’s erection to his gun. His fear, his disgust, it all fed the twisted thrill Richard felt as he shoved his dick right in Blackgaard’s face.

“Hurry up, doc,” he said. “I’m losing my patience.”

“You’ll have to shoot me first!” Blackgaard erupted, recoiling..

Richard cocked his head thoughtfully. “Okay.”

“Wait, wait!” Blackgaard backtracked hastily. “If you really insist upon this—this _vulgarity_ , I suppose that I have no choice but to comply.”

“That’s the spirit!” Richard said. “Watch the teeth if you know what’s good for you.”

Blackgaard parted his lips and brought them hesitantly to the head of Richard’s penis, already wet with a slick of precome. Shuddering, he took the very tip into his mouth, his thin lips barely skimming the crown in his distaste.

“C’mon, doc! I know you can take me deeper than that.”

Richard dug his free hand into Blackgaard’s hair. He wore it slicked back with plenty of pomade, every hair in place, the gray streaks at his temples perfectly aligned, just like his goatee was kept meticulously trimmed. He whimpered as Richard yanked his hair hard, pulling down his head as he thrust his dick further into his mouth.

“There you go!” Richard said as Blackgaard gagged. “Now come on, use that tongue for something besides monologuing about your latest evil scheme. That’s it. Not bad.”

Blackgaard was certainly making an effort, clumsy as it was. Richard helped him out, maintaining a rhythm with a tight grip on his hair. There were tears gathering in Blackgaard’s eyes, but Richard was relentless, not giving him any relief. The roughness was what he wanted.

“You know, with a little more practice, you could get good at this,” he mused. “Better than you are at scheming, anyway. Oh, don’t try to argue with me,” he added as Blackgaard spluttered around his dick. “Even with your fancy Ph.D in child psychology, Blackgaard’s Castle couldn’t compete with an old man’s ice cream parlor with a train set and a Bible room. You never got past level one of Applesauce, which was nothing but a glorified troubleshooting mode. You burned your own brand-new building to the ground because you believed me when I told you that the password to level two was ‘destruct.’ And now you’ve managed to managed to let that invaluable Department of Defense laptop slip through your fingers for the second time. Once might be misfortune, but twice looks like carelessness.”

Blackgaard’s face grew blotchy with some combination of rage and exertion, but there was nothing that he could do about it. The tears were streaming down his face now, and there was wet snot in his mustache. Richard was getting close. Not because the blowjob was so great, but because Blackgaard’s abjection was everything he’d craved in the darkest, most secret corners of his heart.

Richard thrust his dick all the way into Blackgaard’s mouth and then held his head there motionless for a moment—not long, just enough to make Blackgaard panic, wide-eyed, when he realized that he couldn't breathe. Then, after a brief respite, he did it again, just a little bit longer this time.

“That's right,” he said. “I'm in control now. Not you. Me. I’m not letting anyone get in the way of what _I_ want to do. You were the one who taught me that. Remember?”

Richard let himself get rougher, sloppier. He fucked Blackgaard’s face until he was coming hard—down his throat, on his face, in that clipped little goatee, everywhere. It washed through his body like a balm, filthy and sordid and sweet.

Blackgaard coughed and scrubbed at his face with his hands. He didn't budge from his knees, though, and they had to be aching by then. He didn’t dare move from where Richard had put him.

“Was that,” he croaked, at last, “was that what you wanted, Richard?”

“Well,” Richard began, “I wouldn’t say that that was the _best_ blowjob I've ever had.”

That wasn’t exactly true. He’d never had his dick sucked before.

“Please,” Blackgaard implored him, “Richard, I beg you.”

“I expected you,” Richard continued, “to _swallow._ ”

Richard aimed his gun. Blackgaard howled in despair. Richard pulled the trigger and directed a stream of water harmlessly at his come-splattered face.

“A water gun?” Blackgaard broke the stunned silence. “All this time it was…a water gun?!”

“Sure!” Richard said airily. “I wasn’t going to risk breaking my parole with a _real_ one. I've got the rest of my life ahead of me!”

“But,” said Blackgaard, “but—but you—”

He gestured incoherently.

“Oh, that?” Richard said. “That won’t be a problem for me. Because you’re not going to tell anyone. You’d _die_ first. Believe me. I _know_.”

Blackgaard lunged for him, but Richard danced away, laughing. He made it to the door while Blackgaard was still hobbling, trying to straighten his aching knees.

He was free.

**Author's Note:**

> I used a _lot_ of dialogue from the original episode verbatim, because frankly I didn't feel like it could be improved upon for my purposes here. Somehow I don't think they would actually want the credit for that, though…


End file.
